


Cut Out in Stars

by emungere



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-01
Updated: 2007-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hakkai saves Gojyo from some assholes in an alley. Gojyo saves Hakkai from everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut Out in Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Chrissy for the beta :)

_When he shall die,_  
 _Take him and cut him out in little stars,_  
 _And he will make the face of heaven so fine_  
 _That all the world will be in love with night,_  
 _And pay no worship to the garish sun._

  
Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

***

The funny thing about getting punched in the gut was, however bad you thought it was going to hurt, it always hurt worse.

Gojyo bent double and coughed a little, trying to get his body to take in air again. He sank to the ground and felt something damp and sticky seep into the knees of his jeans. No time to be grossed out. If he didn't hit back, and now-- But there was already a boot in his ribs and fuck, it was so hard to breathe. 

He fell in slow motion. His palm was scraped raw as it skidded across the ground in a vain attempt to catch himself. His shoulder hit hard, and his head bounced off the concrete.

They were laughing. Pulling his hard-earned cash out of his pocket and _laughing_. That almost pissed Gojyo off enough to get him to to his knees again, but when he tried to move, someone stepped on his wrist.

"Surprised he's breathing after that kick. Jesus fuck, Chris, ease up. He's down, okay?"

"Never trust a whore."

The weight left Gojyo's wrist, but another sharp kick glanced off his ribs. Fabulous. Fantastic. He was thrilled by this turn of events. It was his goddamn birthday, clearly. Hell, it might be. Mom had never been too good with dates.

"S'my birthday," he told the guy who'd kicked him. There was blood in his mouth, and he felt a little dizzy.

"Yeah? Funny, looks like it's mine, too." The guy grabbed Gojyo's hair and yanked him half-upright, other hand reaching for his fly. He unzipped it and pulled out his cock.

" _Chris_ , come on! This is just stupid, man. We gotta get out of here."

"Yeah, Chris," Gojyo mumbled. He swayed on his knees, caught between the tension on his hair and the downward pull of gravity and unconsciousness.

"Great, he knows your name now. Will you--"

"I just want a little fucking fun before--"

Gojyo shook off the dizziness as best he could and slammed his palm upward into Chris' groin.

There was a sudden pain in his his jaw, and then darkness. Someone screamed. Amazingly, it wasn't him. He heard the wet sounds of someone wounded but still breathing, and then silence.

"Hello," a voice said. "Are you very badly hurt?"

Cautiously, Gojyo opened his eyes. "I'm fine," he said. "Who are you?"

"Is that the sort of fine that requires a hospital, or merely the sort that requires an ice pack?"

The guy spoke without looking at him, bending over to rifle through Chris and his buddy's pockets. Both of them were lying very still.

"Ice pack," Gojyo said. Was that blood on the ground next to Chris's head? He was pretty sure it was, and a lot of it. "Look, this may sound like a stupid question, but did you just kill those guys?"

"Yes, I did."

"Oh. Okay." The next obvious question seemed to be, Are you going to kill me too? but since the guy was handing Gojyo all his money back and then some, it probably didn't apply. "Thanks."

"I didn't think that would be so easy," the guy said. He was standing still now, outlined by the light coming from the mouth of the alley. He had a knife in his hand, one of those folding ones with the replaceable blades. It had a pink metal handle.

"You're pretty good with a knife, huh?" Gojyo wiped blood off his lip and licked at the small cut there. He must've bitten it when Chris hit him.

"Apparently I am, yes."

The guy was just standing there. Orange light slanted across his face. He looked young and a little lost. He was blinking down at the bodies of the two men he'd killed like he wasn't sure how they'd gotten there.

"You okay?" Gojyo asked.

"I'm fine."

"Is that the kind of fine that gets you locked up in a psych ward for a few years?"

The guy hesitated. "Very possibly."

Gojyo reached out, very slowly, and took the knife from his hand.

"You wanna try a beer first? It usually works for me."

"When you've murdered two strangers?"

"I try to only kill people I know."

"Ah," the guy said. "Very wise." He paused. "My name is Hakkai."

"Gojyo."

"It's very nice to meet you, Gojyo."

"Likewise," Gojyo said, though he thought surreal would've been a better word for it.

"Alcohol does seem like a good idea. Perhaps I should call the police," he added, as if it had just occurred to him.

Gojyo dragged himself back up to his knees and waited a second for the dizziness to subside before trying to get his feet under him.

"The cops might not be such a hot idea," he said. "Those guys are, um. Pretty dead." He was trying not to look too hard at the bodies since he'd realized it wasn't just their throats that were cut.

"I see your point," Hakkai said. He was starting to look a little pale. "Perhaps we could simply--leave."

"Yeah. Leaving gets my vote." He folded the knife shut and put it in his pocket. He'd have to clean it and dump it somewhere, but hell, it was the least he could do. Anyway, damned if he was letting Hakkai have it back.

"Do you need assistance?"

Gojyo would've liked to say no, but he'd also like to not fall on his ass, and that was looking more and more likely.

"Yeah. Maybe a hand up wouldn't hurt. Thanks."

Hakkai bent down and put an arm around his waist. When he stood again, he brought Gojyo up as well, with no apparent effort. Strong. Well, he'd have to be, the way he took out those two. He was warm, too, which made Gojyo suddenly aware that he was not. The temperature had fallen with the sun, and his clothes were wet from the muck at the bottom of the alley.

"My car is close," Hakkai said. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"No money, no insurance."

"I can pay."

Gojyo just stared at him for a second. "What are you, nuts?"

Hakkai started them walking, out of the mouth of the alley and back into the relatively cleaner air of the street.

"I have the money. It would be a shame if you died of a brain injury or internal bleeding."

"Do you even know what hospitals cost?" Gojyo said, trying to ignore the part about internal bleeding. His side felt like someone was jabbing an ice pick into it with every step he took.

"I believe I have a fair idea." Hakkai nodded ahead of them. "That's my car. We're almost there."

His car was a cherry red Ferrari. Maybe he did have enough money.

A minute later, sinking into the embrace of the leather seat, Gojyo felt himself start to relax from the adrenaline overdrive he'd been running on since the first punch. It'd happened so goddamn fast. Couldn't have been more than ten minutes all told.

He glanced over at Hakkai and took in the set of his jaw and the tight clench of his hands on the steering wheel. The needle on the speedometer was creeping upwards. Good thing the streets were almost empty.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"I-- I don't know." Hakkai stopped accelerating, which was a good thing as far as Gojyo was concerned. Just because his car _could_ do 150 didn't mean that it should. At least not in the middle of the city. "Where are we going?"

Gojyo thought fast. He could say his place, but that would look weird later if the cops connected them to this. Hakkai should look like any other john, and Gojyo never took his johns home. A hotel would be worse, the way he looked right now. They would be remembered.

"Your place." He tried not to make it sound like a question.

"Ah. Of course," Hakkai said, like he invited hookers over every night of the week.

Maybe he did. He must've been looking for _something_ in that neighborhood at this time of night. Whores or drugs, one or the other.

They turned onto Fifth and drove uptown through quiet streets. He was guessing Hakkai lived somewhere up by the park. It was going to be a long drive.

"Do you really?" Hakkai asked.

"Huh?"

"Kill people you know."

"Oh. Uh. No, I never... I never killed anybody." He felt like he should apologize for it, but managed not to.

Hakkai nodded. "That's good."

"Yeah." _Are you okay?_ he just stopped himself from asking again.

"I think I'm going to throw up now," Hakkai said, a block later. He did, pulling over and getting his door open just in time.

Gojyo leaned towards him, but the position was too awkward even to hold his hair back. Hakkai did that himself, twisting it into a short ponytail with one hand and bracing the other on the door. Gojyo started to pat his back and then didn't.

"There's a bottle of water in the back behind my seat. Could you get it for me, please?"

Gojyo fished in the dark, essentially non-existent back seat and came up with a screw-top bottle of San Pelligrino. Jesus. He handed it over.

"Thank you." Hakkai rinsed his mouth out and spat, and then took a long pull from the bottle. Gojyo could see the muscles of his throat working.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, I think so." Hakkai held the open bottle between his thighs and started the car up again. "I don't know why I did that."

"I'm surprised you didn't do it sooner."

"Are you a prostitute?"

"What? Yes."

"I see."

"Sorry you saved me now?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering, because of the semen on your cheek. And what that man said, of course, but people don't always use the word whore accurately."

Gojyo wiped his cheek, scratched at the crusty bit he found there. He realized that he didn't need to ask if Hakkai was okay. He was definitely not okay.

"Well, I am. What do you do?"

"I'm a model."

"You're... Are you serious?" He was pretty enough, with his pale skin and dark eyes. And it would explain where he got the cash for the car. But. Gojyo was having problems with the part where a hot Ferrari-driving male model picked him up in an alley and was taking him home. Like the fact that he was a model made it that much more unbelievable. Right.

"Have you been to Times Square recently?"

"Huh? No. They don't actually have hookers there anymore, you know, since the whole Disney thing."

"No, I meant because my billboard is there. Sometimes people don't believe me, about being a model, and that's the easiest way to prove it."

"Oh," Gojyo said. Right, of course. His _billboard_. "It's okay. I believe you."

Hakkai nodded. "Do you think we should stop and get beer on the way? I don't have any."

"Hell, yes." If there was ever a situation in his life that called for drunkenness, this was it.

They stopped a few blocks later at a store called, if you believed its sign, Cold Beer Tobacco. It was lit up with pink and green neon outside and surprisingly clean inside, the tile floor polished to a mirror-sheen. Gojyo's reflected face in it looked pale and confused, both of which he felt. He tried not to look too closely at his injuries just yet.

One whole wall was lined with cut flowers for sale, and Hakkai picked out red roses, red carnations, red daisy-looking-things, and red tulips. Gojyo got them two six-packs of Sam Adams and tried not to be weirded out by Hakkai's color choices. There were a lot of red things besides blood. Maybe they matched his sofa or something.

"I.D. please," said the guy behind the desk.

Hakkai looked at Gojyo. Gojyo showed his I.D. and paid.

"How old are you?" he asked Hakkai, when they got back to the car.

"Almost eighteen."

"Which means seventeen. Seventeen. You're _seventeen_? Jesus fucking Christ! Are your _parents_ going to be there when we get to your place?"

"I've been an emancipated minor since I was fourteen. My parents passed away two years ago in an accident. A car crash," he added, as though Gojyo might have doubts.

"Right. Sorry," Gojyo said, though Hakkai didn't seem particularly upset about it.

"It's all right. I didn't like them very much."

Gojyo didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. The night rushed past them in a flickering blur of streetlights and neon and sidewalks still wet from the last rain. Shards of reflected light caught in the puddles.

By the time they made it to Hakkai's apartment building, it was raining again, a soft patter on the umbrella the doorman held for Gojyo as he got out and stepped under the awning. Hakkai handed over his keys, and they went inside. Gojyo kept his head down. Hopefully, the doorman would remember the ripped jeans and mesh tank he was wearing and not the mess his face was.

The elevator, all mirrors and brass, showed him details. Bloody lip, mud in his hair, a spreading red-purple bruise on his cheekbone. He wouldn't be earning much for a while. Anyone who'd want to fuck a face like that, he wouldn't want anywhere near him.

Hakkai caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled.

He didn't have the penthouse, as Gojyo had half-expected. His apartment was only average in size, living room, dining room, and kitchen all visible from the front door. One wall was entirely lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, and outside was a small balcony, and the vast, disconcerting darkness of Central Park at night.

Gojyo walked over until he could leave fingerprints on the cool glass, until his breath misted it, and he could see his own reflection again, too close. The lights on the far side of the park looked like another city, somewhere far away and magical. His mother's apartment was over there somewhere, one of those distant lights.

"What are you looking for?" Hakkai asked, voice soft and much too close to Gojyo's ear.

Gojyo suppressed a squeak of surprise and splayed his hand flat against the glass as he jerked forward.

"Nothing! Nothing. Jeez, you wanna not creep up on a guy like that?"

"Oh." Hakkai stepped back. "I do apologize." He crossed his arms over his stomach, fingers digging into his elbows, looking down.

"Hey. Sorry." Gojyo touched his shoulder, felt him flinch. "It's okay. Beer time?"

Hakkai shook his head. "Your face. I'll get the first aid kit. Sit, please."

He pushed the flowers at Gojyo and disappeared. Gojyo clutched them to his chest a little too hard and watched them shed red petals onto the white carpet.

The kitchen was also white. There was a white vase set out on the white marble counter, next to the white range top and the white sink. Gojyo filled it with water and checked the trash can. It was full of wilted red flowers. He set the flowers in the vase and took it out to sit it on the dining room table--which was also white.

Hakkai still wasn't back, and Gojyo stepped into the hall that led to the rest of the apartment, intending to call him. He stopped as soon as he switched on the hall light.

A good three feet of the wall, floor to ceiling, was full of tacked up sheets of paper with cut out letters pasted to them. Gojyo only had to read one to get the idea, but stray words from the others jerked his eyes from page to page-- _naked--flaunting yourself--shameless_ \--and over and over again, _whore--whore--whore._

"Love letters," said a soft voice behind him. "From a particularly devoted fan."

"And you keep them?" Gojyo asked.

"My agent said I should, in case the police need them later."

Gojyo swallowed. "Right. Only, I don't think he meant on your wall. Don't people think it's weird?"

"What people?"

"People you have over?"

"I don't have people over. Come on. I want to fix your face."

Gojyo let Hakkai lead him back to the living room and sit him on the couch. On the (white granite) coffee table, Hakkai laid out alcohol, cotton balls, Neosporin, bandages, thread, and a curved and deadly looking needle. Gojyo hoped he wouldn't need that.

"Take your shirt off, please."

"Huh? Oh." Right. Kicked in the ribs. He took his shirt off and looked down. There was another bruise forming, but no broken skin.

Hakkai passed a hand over the bruise, barely touching. "It hurts?"

"A lot. Yeah."

Hakkai nodded and wet a cotton ball with alcohol. He leaned close, hand poised in front of Gojyo's face. "This will probably hurt as well. I'm sorry."

The alcohol was cold and wet and stung when it hit the abraded skin on Gojyo's cheek. Hakkai sat on the coffee table, knee touching Gojyo's. Cotton ball by filthy cotton ball, Gojyo's face came clean.

"There," Hakkai said, at last. He touched Gojyo's cheek and the corner of his mouth where he'd wiped the dried blood away. "Done. You won't need stitches, I don't think."

"Thanks."

Hakkai leaned closer, thumb still at the corner of Gojyo's mouth. He was looking at that, rather than meeting Gojyo's eyes. "The bruises will be very bad."

"I know."

Hakkai sat back. "Well. I suppose it's time for the beer."

"You're underage. I'm contributing to the delinquency of a minor. And stuff."

"Stuff?"

"I'm sure it's not the only law I'm breaking."

Hakkai nodded seriously. "You could be charged with conspiracy to commit murder, for example."

"Yeah. Beer time. Seriously."

One beer later, he asked about the flowers.

"Why red?"

"Well," Hakkai said. He stopped for a moment, as if it hadn't occurred to him to think about it before. "I suppose I like the color."

"Then why's everything in here white and not red?"

"They stand out more this way, don't you think?"

"You picked your whole, like, _decorative motif_ to show off your flowers? That die every other day?"

"Not really. I had a designer in and she asked what my favorite color was."

"Your favorite color is white?"

"No. I told her it was black, and she said black wasn't a color because it was the absence of color. I said that was why I liked it, and she said I'd appreciate her design once I got over my teenage angst."

Gojyo laughed and choked a little and only just managed not to snort beer out his nose. "And you didn't fire her?"

"No, I think she was right, really. Adolescence isn't really a good time to decorate a multi-million dollar apartment. Think of the loss in resale value if I'd painted the walls black and put in a disco ball."

Hakkai's face was so perfectly serious that Gojyo ended up with fizzing sinuses again.

"You really wanted a disco ball?" he asked.

"No, not really. Anyway, I got something much better."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Do you want to see?"

Gojyo nodded and let Hakkai pull him up off the couch, though not before he grabbed two more beers to take with them. Hakkai's hand in his was cool and dry, and held on just a little too tightly so that Gojyo could feel his pulse in his fingertips.

Hakkai pulled him past the wall of stalker letters and down the relentlessly white hall to the last room on the left. The outside of the door was painted white and looked exactly like every other door they'd passed and did not prepare him in any way for the room inside.

The walls were black. The carpet was the rusty red-brown of dried blood. There were books packed into the small bookcase, teetering in piles on the floor, stacked on the window ledge, and peeking out from under the bed. A plasma TV hung from the wall, surrounded by gaming systems and DVDs piled up like offerings at a shrine.

The three empty pizza boxes and generic carry-out containers probably accounted for the unfortunate smell, which Hakkai didn't even seem to notice.

"You have to lie down on the bed," Hakkai said, fussing with something next to his Playstation 3.

"Nice line. You get a lot of girls with that?"

Hakkai gave him an impatient look, pursed lips and hair falling across one eye. For a moment, he looked his age, or even younger.

Gojyo held his hands up in surrender and lay down on the bed. Hakkai fiddled for a few seconds longer, and then flicked a switch on the wall.

The room went black. No sliver of light from under the door, nothing coming in from the window. Gojyo literally could not see his hand in front of his face, no matter how hard he tried, and he had to bite down on a creeping edge of panic. Nothing good had ever happened to him in the dark.

A moment later, Hakkai's weight settled next to him on the bed and Hakkai pressed something plastic and rectangular into his hand.

"Press the button at the top."

Gojyo did, and the whole ceiling lit up with stars.

"It's a miniature version of what they use in planetariums," Hakkai said, but Gojyo wasn't really listening.

He'd never been farther away from the city than New Jersey, never seen a night sky like this, except maybe during the blackout.

"That's Andromeda," Hakkai said. Gojyo could just see the outline of his hand by the light of the stars as he pointed. "She was chained to a rock, supposed to be eaten by a monster because of her mother's vanity."

"Damn. That's harsh. So did it eat her?"

"Oh, no. Perseus saved her at the last minute."

"Well, that's good."

"I suppose. He demanded her hand in marriage in return. Traditional, but perhaps she didn't want to marry him? His ability to kill monsters doesn't seem to equate to--" He stopped. "I'm sorry. I must be boring you."

"Nah, not really."

He could see Hakkai's head turning towards him and the reflected gleam of his eyes, but not his expression.

"You're sure?" Hakkai asked.

"Sure, I'm sure. It doesn't say what happened after, huh? If he was a good husband?"

"No, it doesn't say. It seems unlikely though, doesn't it?"

"Maybe not. Maybe he really loved her."

"Love at first sight?"

"Anything's possible."

"I'm not sure I believe in love."

"You seriously need another beer, kid."

Gojyo passed him one, and there was silence for a while except for the hiss of the bottle opening and the glug-glug as Hakkai upended it into his mouth. It was quickly followed by a burp that lasted at least three seconds.

"Oh." Hakkai sounded faintly surprised. "I am sorry."

"Not a big beer drinker, huh?"

"Not a big drinker of anything, really."

"You gotta do something about that."

"You're a terribly bad influence."

Speaking of bad influences, Gojyo reminded himself that he really needed to do something about that knife in the morning. Now would be better, but he didn't think he could make himself move.

"Nice bed," he told Hakkai.

"It's a Vera Wang."

Gojyo tried not to snicker because _Wang_ should stop being funny if you're older than, say, fourteen. Tops. But he had a theory about beer and age regression which he'd someday write out in equation form and it would totally win him the Nobel Beer Prize. He snickered.

"Are you sure you're legally an adult?" Hakkai asked him.

"I used to go to school with a kid named Dustin Wang. Dusty Wang."

"Really. I'd like to see your driver's license, please." But Hakkai was smiling. Gojyo could hear it in his voice.

It was a relief to hear him sound like that, almost normal for the first time all night. Gojyo felt some tension between his shoulders that he hadn't even known about relax fractionally.

"So," Hakkai said, "if I paid you, would you have sex with me?"

Gojyo laughed. He couldn't help it. He closed his eyes and lay back and laughed until his whole body was shaking with it. Distantly, he could hear Hakkai being reasonable, saying things like, "Well, you are a prostitute!" Which only made him laugh harder.

"What, have you been saving that up all night for, like, the _appropriate time_?" he finally managed.

"There didn't seem to be an appropriate time!"

"Hakkai! There is no appropriate time to offer somebody cash for sex unless that somebody is standing on a street corner wearing less than half what you are, okay! No appropriate time! Especially not when you're lying in bed together looking at fake goddamn stars!" It didn't come out with the right amount of outrage, because he was still trying not to giggle.

"I see," Hakkai said. "So, that's--"

"That's a no!" It might not have been if Hakkai hadn't offered to pay him, but--well. At least he wasn't stupid enough to feel hurt by the offer.

"Ah. I understand."

There was silence for a few seconds, just enough time for Gojyo to wonder if maybe he should've said yes.

"Would you stay the night, at least?" Hakkai asked softly. "If I don't offer to pay you?"

And despite two or possibly three beers, things were suddenly not so funny anymore.

Hakkai's arm was touching his, and Hakkai's fingers plucked at the fabric of his jeans, fiddling with one belt loop. Their shoulders were pressed together, and Hakkai's face was turned towards him, so that Gojyo could feel the quick warmth of his breath.

Hell, it was only one night.

"Sure," he said. "I'll stay. No problem."

By the time he drifted off, Hakkai was curled on his side next to him, and Hakkai's hair brushed his cheek. By the time he woke up again, Hakkai's upper body was sprawled across his chest, and he could feel Hakkai's cock against his thigh, hard and hot. Even with the faint light of the stars, he could see nothing but vague shapes, and he had to touch Hakkai's face and brush his fingers over closed eyelids to know he was asleep.

There was no cash on offer now.

Gojyo slipped a hand between his own leg and Hakkai's hard-on, cupping it, rubbing gently. He got a breathy moan in response, and Hakkai rocked forward against his hand.

Gojyo eased him over onto his back and shifted downwards. Oh, this was a bad, bad idea, but he was going to do it anyway. Hakkai was so warm against his side, whole body pliant and trusting--because you're _molesting_ him in his _sleep_ , Gojyo reminded himself. It made no impact on him at all. He still wanted to touch. To do more than touch.

He unfastened Hakkai's jeans. The denim was rough, the buttons smooth and warm. He peeled them downwards and leaned lower to brush his lips over Hakkai's bared hip. The skin there was soft, tender. Gojyo's tongue traced the sharper edge of Hakkai's hip bone. He tasted only faintly of salt and smelled almost sweet.

Moving blindly, Gojyo's fingers found the edge of his underwear. They were stretchy and smooth, too slick to be cotton. He wanted to turn the lights on, see what color it was, see the outline of Hakkai's cock. He felt it out instead, long and hard, curving up towards his stomach. Gojyo rubbed his cheek along it, licked it through the fabric, and it hardened further. His fingers found the head stretching out the elastic band, wet and slick at the tip. He pulled the underwear down just enough.

Hakkai moved restlessly, still asleep, or at least pretending. He made a faint noise in his throat as Gojyo took his cock in hand and licked up the side. HIs tongue swirled around the head, and he eased his lips over it and began to suck.

Hakkai smelled clean, tasted good, and Gojyo started to remember some of the enthusiasm he used to have for a thick cock filling up his mouth. This was why he'd thought being a hooker wouldn't be so bad, but it was a lot different when you didn't get to pick whose dick you were sucking.

Not thinking about that, he decided. He didn't need to be thinking at all. Just feeling. Hakkai's cock grew harder in his mouth, and Hakkai's thigh tensed and relaxed under his hand. Gojyo closed his eyes and opened his mouth wider.

For a long time, that was all he did. He teased the head with his tongue, slid his lips up and down slowly, tasted, breathed him in. Hakkai moved a little under him, and Gojyo had to hold his hips down. Hakkai moaned and gasped and finally said his name--which probably meant he was awake. Hakkai didn't stop him, though, and Gojyo didn't want to stop himself.

He took Hakkai deeper until the head was nudging at the back of his throat. He reached up under Hakkai's shirt and laid a hand on the warm skin of his stomach, fingers stroking, reaching higher. He swallowed once, and again.

"Oh," he heard Hakkai say. "Please." And then he was coming in a rush down Gojyo's throat.

Gojyo licked him clean afterwards and laid his head on Hakkai's stomach. Hakkai touched his hair, finger running through it so lightly he barely felt it. A few seconds later, Hakkai took hold of his shoulder, tugging him up.

Gojyo slid up until they lay face to face, and allowed the arms around him, the light touches on his back and sides, but he pushed Hakkai's hands away from the front of his pants.

"Don't worry about it," he whispered, and soon enough Hakkai was asleep in his arms again, not quite snoring. Young, Gojyo couldn't help thinking. Really still a kid, which made made this kind of wrong, probably. Except maybe for the part where the kid had killed two people earlier this evening, but Gojyo wasn't sure whether that made it better or worse.

Either way, he should be out of here before Hakkai woke up.

***

The stars were still there when Gojyo opened his eyes again, but dimmed. The bedroom door was open, and dusty light came in from the hallway. Hakkai was gone. When Gojyo checked his pocket, he found the knife was gone as well.

He lay still, listening for some kind of sound; water in the bathroom or the rattling of dishes. Screams from the neighbors. Anything. There was nothing but the honk of impatient taxis from the street below. He was almost afraid to get up and check the rest of the apartment, but he knew he should.

The bathroom was empty, and so was the second bedroom, though the bed was turned down and for some reason there was a mint on the pillow. The other door led to a library room with shelves and shelves of leatherbound books. It was also empty.

There was no one in the main room or the kitchen, but there was a styrofoam container on the kitchen counter with a pink sticky note stuck to it.

> _Please stay as long as you want. I hope you like pancakes._
> 
> _PS: Don't worry about the thing. I got rid of it._

He opened the container and found a fork. As long as he wanted. He wondered if that mint on the pillow was meant for him, if Hakkai actually expected him to stay here for more time than it took to eat pancakes. No, he decided. Hakkai was being polite, that was all.

The pancakes were sticky sweet, soft, and still warm. Gojyo ate them all, along with a cup of coffee from the coffee maker. When he went to throw the styrofoam container away, he saw two more crumpled pink sticky notes in the trash.

The first one was written on heavily, but so crossed out that Gojyo could only read a few words: _Thank you, blood, want, sorry._

The second said only: _please don't go._

Gojyo put them carefully back in the trash, pancake container on top of them. He was still sure he should go. That second one--hell, he should _run_. He could just about hear the need in it, and whatever Hakkai thought he needed, Gojyo wasn't it.

But, he thought, he could stay just until Hakkai got home. He could ask about the knife. He probably should ask about the knife. If anything went wrong there, he'd be implicated too. He could order pizza or something, in return for the pancakes. Explain to Hakkai why he had to leave. Yeah. He could stay a little longer. A few hours wouldn't make that much difference.

He knew he was lying to himself. He just didn’t care. And if he was staying, even just for the day, there was something else he needed to do.

In the hallway, the wall of letters fluttered as he approached. He took them down, one by one, and stacked them in a pile. He stuck the pile under the bed in the guestroom, ate the mint on the pillow, and headed back out to the living room.

The glass of the window was warm when he touched it. Central Park looked different in the morning light; less strange, more alive even from up here. The city's early autumn haze nearly obscured the buildings on the far side. Gojyo got another cup of coffee and stepped out onto the balcony to wait for Hakkai's return.


End file.
